Hungry for touch during our pandemic, I am intoxicated by a newly purchased digital blood pressure cuff. Suffering from intermittent dizziness, due to either PD or PD medication, I was assigned by the neurologist last week to chart my blood pressure levels 4-5 times daily. After just a few days together, the cuff and I are uniquely intertwined.
Each morning since the cuff arrived, I have awakened, taken water and my meds and then scurried to the table where I left it charging the previous night. I wrap the cuff securely around my left upper arm and press ‘start’ on the digital pad with my right hand. There is a pause and then a reassuring, mellow voice welcomes me to the mathematical certainties of blood pressure assessment. The voice kindly urges me to hold my arm at heart level. Surely, that means something intimate—heart level. As the cuff tightens around my arm, I swoon into the process—imagining the escalating grip is a fervent hug, even though only one arm is being fondled. As the reading proceeds and the cuff gets more aggressive, I hover on the brink of feeling scared it will injure my arm. But it seems to know when to stop inflating. I’ve come to trust it.
It’s all worthwhile when a tinkling sound indicates that the digital reading is imminent. Invariably, the voice concludes, “these readings are normal.” And I feel so grateful to hear that anything about me is normal. That is because I feel crazier and crazier coping with solo living, lumbering through a seemingly endless viral quagmire towards an undecipherable future.
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Ellen B. Pritsker is a Chicago-area writer and communications specialist. A Chicago native, she holds a BA from the University of Michigan and a Certificate from The Family Institute at Northwestern University. Single, she is the proud parent/grandparent of three sons and five grandchildren. She was diagnosed in the fall of 2019 with Parkinson’s Disease